


To The Wonder

by vassilissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Love Letters, Romance, Set in the 40's, mentioned miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassilissa/pseuds/vassilissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always knew how to be the smart one, not this. This <strike>feeling</strike> <i>thing</i> —this <i>horrible thing</i>— it <b><i>consumes</i></b> me. I appear to myself a whole different person, a complete stranger. And I look in the mirror and it’s me, but it’s not, Draco, I swear, what <i>is</i> this word? What is this awful, horrible horrible word that I know nothing of yet am so <i>entirely</i>? How can he have <i>done</i> this? How have I <i>let</i> him? Oh, I did not want this. I did not want <i>any</i> of this, Draco, you must understand—</p><p>I must find this word. Then I must stop boredness from swallowing me whole. I’ve been feeling so small these days. <strike>I hope it stops</strike>. I hope it doesn’t, so you can put me in your pocket and I can finally rid this place of me. So I can <i>leave</i>.</p><p>                                                                                         — yours entirely.</p><p>                                                      (<i>p.s please don’t go crazy in there, okay? I am in love with you.</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Wonder

_March 1st, 1946_

 

So you left.

 

I must not hate you, but my throat tells me otherwise. It closes up on me sometimes, you see. Makes it hard for me to function the way I should. The way I seemed to.

 

Now you tell me that—  _You’re Granger, you’ll find a bloody way_ —

 

Yes, I will.  _Yes_.

 

    —  ~~I love you.~~  I’m so stupid.

* * *

 

_July 13th, 1946_

 

You obviously cannot write back. I forget that sometimes. It’s been months, hasn’t it? I miss you. I miss—

 

I  _miss_.  _So many things_ , my God, how have I missed that? There are so many things to be missed tonight, it seems.

 

I miss Hogwarts. I miss you smoking next to that window. Your cigarettes had a rich smell.

 

I’ve forgotten that smell. It’s been too long.

 

We got engaged last month. His mother is very excited for this wedding.

 

I’m not. Please write to me. Please beg.

 

 —I seem to be hating you very much these days. Don’t forgive me. I’m selfish.

* * *

 

_January 1st, 1947_

 

You have your name and then you have nothing at all.

 

How can one lose their name? I believe there’s no honour in that. But I believe in everything, don’t I?

 

Days and months and years — _years_ — Draco. I cannot refuse anything any more. I refused you for far too long, and I am tired, I am  _exhausted_ , and this  _thing_ — What you have  _done_ —

 

I do not stand for that. But I stand for you. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I have no position.

 

You’re so away. In so many places. Albania, France, Germany— What’s it like, I wonder. There is a war raging on outside the Wizarding World. I wonder if you care.

 

I cannot get out of my room. I cannot walk away from my country. I cannot walk away from my people.

 

~~Having no people. I wonder what that’s like.~~

 

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m ill, Draco. So very ill.  _Where are you?_

 

     —  ~~I should stop writing.~~  I love you I love you I love you.  ~~Happy New Year.~~

* * *

 

_February 26th, 1947_

 

I wonder —I cannot stay still from wondering— if you not coming to Hogwarts for an eighth year would’ve made a difference. If I could’ve refused some more, till I never saw you again.

 

Just a little more, I tell myself. A little more.

 

And then there you were in that Ministry ball. You just had to come. And I thought denial is the last thing that exists between us.

 

Harry was always suspicious. And I’m thinking of you.

 

England is sunny. I stay in the yard more often than my skin would like. I have a ridiculous amount of freckles, I realised.

 

And I’m thinking of you.

 

— _hermione j._

* * *

 

_October 6th, 1947_

 

Hermione,

 

I heard you got married to him. Congratulations.

 

We are currently recruiting members in Russia. I’ve killed so many people, I cannot dream anymore.

 

You wouldn’t like Russia. It’s too cold. The war is not for you.

 

I wish I could grab you. I do suppose you won’t understand what this means. I’m patient for you.

 

 _—_ They call us _kozha da kosti_ here. Skin and bones.I believe we are. All of us.

* * *

 

_November 8th, 1947_

 

You don’t mean that. Tell me you don’t mean that.

 

Russia is too far away. Don’t mean that.

 

 _ **Draco**_.

 

—You left.  _You_  left.

* * *

 

_June 2nd, 1948_

 

When you eat only death what do you become? What do you become, what do you become—

 

You are light, Draco Malfoy. You are a star in the sky. You are a  _dragon_.

 

You are  _everything_.

 

Don’t let  _it_  become  _you_.

 

—I cannot breathe anymore.

* * *

 

_September 19th, 1948_

 

Happy birthday, Hermione.

 

— _Draco M._

* * *

 

_December 20th, 1948_

 

I’m  ~~nineteen, twenty,~~  twenty-one and I miss you terribly still.

 

After all this time, still. Despite everything,  _yet_.

 

Come back, Draco. Come  _back_. You can’t bring your mother back. You  _can’t_.

 

—There have been attacks. I suppose destroying the world has worked well for you.

* * *

 

_January 5th, 1949_

 

It’s been three years, Hermione. You need to move on. You need to stop writing to me. There is no time for this.

 

There have been massacres in Leningrad. Everything is in ruins. I do notice this.

 

I have partial control of the attacks in England. I hope he keeps you safe. I hope you keep yourself safe. Don’t say anything to Potter.

 

 _Stop writing to me_.

 

— _Draco M_.

* * *

 

_January 17th, 1949_

 

You can never lie to me, Draco Malfoy. You never could.

 

I can handle myself, do  _ **not**_  underestimate me.

 

— _say you love me_

* * *

 

_May 29th, 1949_

 

You stubborn, stubborn woman.

 

I’m sorry it took me so long to reply.

 

—I  _ **adore**_  you.

* * *

 

_August 30th, 1949_

 

He wants a boy.

  
  
He’s my best friend before he is anything else to me, Draco, and I  _love_  him. I really, really do. Forever.

 

I want children too. Not right now, but someday. I’d like a girl. I had a dream the other day. It was  _beautiful_.

 

But she had blonde hair and gray eyes and I’ve betrayed my everything. _Myself_.

 

You  _need_ to tell me what to do. I  _cannot_  keep  _going_  like  _this_ —

 

— _hermione j._

* * *

 

_October 31st, 1949_

 

You wear a ring on your finger, Hermione. You share a bed with him.

 

I’m in  _China_.

 

I have a ring too. It was my fathers. He told me, in these rare moments that he was my father, that this  _ring_ , the Malfoy  _heirloom_ —

 

It belongs to a girl worthy enough to hold its history. And back then, only fourteen, I thought of you.

 

But it is I who is not worthy. It is I who has betrayed my title. My heritage.

 

And still I think of you. It’s been years. I’m not coming back.

 

Yet I am  _always_  thinking of you. So I keep my ring in hopes of something better. When the time is right.

 

You should too.

 

—Draco.

* * *

 

_April 10th, 1950_

 

There will be a war, won’t there? A Wizarding War? I don’t understand what you are doing.

  
  
_God_ , Draco. People have been fighting for _years_ now. My parents are _dead_. Plane crash in France.

  
  
Would you really support a war? Do you know what it _means_?

  
  
Why did you leave?

I am so tired.

 

—Hermione.

* * *

 

_June 5th, 1950_

 

No war, Hermione.

 

Just a movement. If there was another way, I’d take it. I have to do this. For my mother. So that her death has not been in vain.

 

There have been days where I cannot even sleep. Millions of people died in Russia that year, Hermione. I walked invisible beside their corpses.

 

No war. I promise you.

 

— _Draco_

* * *

 

_August 4th, 1950_

 

Come back come back come back come back—

 

I am _more_ than myself.

 

I am more than this never ending vapidness that has become my life. Please save me. Please don't. 

 

Oh, me. Books and cleverness—

 

There are more important things. Like knowing when to leave him—

 

 I’m so alone, Draco. I’m so _alone_.

 

— _hermione j._

* * *

 

_November 2nd, 1950_

 

Harry and Ginny had their second child. It’s a girl, even though I’m fairly certain you don’t care.

 

The thing is— I was pregnant in June. I learned about it on your birthday. I was _excited_ , Draco. I’m twenty-three years old. Ron’s mother has been pressuring me into getting pregnant since our first year of marriage.

 

The thing is, I _wanted_ this child. I never even _see_ Ron anymore. The way It happened… I’ve no idea how we got that time to ourselves. He’s been working so much. Since Fred died…

 

But you don’t care about that either, do you? I’m sorry. It’s just that I have no one to talk to, these days. It’s pathetic, really.

 

My cat —do you remember my cat?— she died too. I know she annoyed you back at Hogwarts. I also know she loved you very much.

 

 _I_ love you very much. So much, I think, sometimes, I’m suffocating without you. It is pulling me down.

 

I am not happy, Draco. I haven’t been in the longest time.

 

The- _thing_ \- _is_ , Draco, I _lost_ my child. And I stopped dreaming about the gray-eyed, blonde girl a long time ago.

 

—Care. Please care.

* * *

 

_February 6th, 1951_

 

Did something happen, Draco? Have you changed your mail address?

 

Please be okay. Please be safe.

 

—hermione j.

* * *

 

_July 4th, 1951_

 

Hermione Granger,

 

You probably don’t remember me much, but I’m Blaise, Draco’s old mate from Hogwarts.

 

I’m currently living in Germany, and Draco has contacted me saying he’s here too, but in prison. One of the marches went wrong, I think. He told me to tell you.

 

I have no idea what you are to do with this information, since I’ve no idea what possible relationship you’d have with Draco.

 

He did tell me that he’s not going to be able to write to you for the next couple of months, though.

 

—Best regards, Blaise Zabini.

* * *

_August, September, October, November, December, 1951_

 

_—_

* * *

_March 9th, 1952_

 

I always knew how to be the smart one, not this. This ~~feeling~~ _thing_ —this _horrible_ _thing_ — it _**consumes**_ me. I appear to myself a whole different person, a complete stranger. And I look in the mirror and it’s me, but it’s not, Draco, I swear, what _is_ this word? What is this awful, horrible horrible word that I know nothing of yet am so _entirely_? How can he have _done_ this? How have I _let_ him? Oh, I did not want this. I did not want _any_ of this, Draco, you must understand—

 

I must find this word. Then I must stop boredness from swallowing me whole. I’ve been feeling so small these days. ~~I hope it stops.~~ I hope it doesn’t, so you can put me in your pocket and I can finally rid this place of me. So I can _leave_.

                                                                                         

— yours _entirely_.  
     
   

    (p.s _please don’t go crazy in there, okay? I am in love with you._ )

* * *

_April 1st, 1952_

 

I’m so fucking sorry, Hermione. _So_ fucking sorry.

 

I’m in Albania again. I think maybe I will come back. But it will be too late.

 

Why is it always so fucking late with you, baby?

 

God struck me down, I’m glad you didn’t have that child. Weasley doesn’t fucking deserve you.

 

I love you. I’ll come back and take you with me and show you the world, how it is without war creeping in every corner.

 

I’ll put you in my pocket. I’ll do anything.

 

Please forgive me, baby. I know it’s been six years. Please forgive me.

 

— _draco_

* * *

_September 18th, 1952_

 

Your letter came so late. I thought you’d never talk to me again.

 

Draco, I’m losing my mind. I’m pregnant.

 

Do not wish anything. Let me have this.

 

I love you forever. This is all I seem to be doing. I cannot forgive you for leaving.

 

I _want_ that little girl, Draco. I want your quartz eyes. I want it all.

 

This is the last letter I sent you. I am not living. I am holding my breath. Six years is a long time and it has passed me by.

 

~~Don’t you dare come back. Don’t you _dare_.~~

 

—  _ ~~oh my god, please come. please come~~._

* * *

_January 31st, 1953_

 

Damn _you_ , Draco Malfoy. Damn you for **_ruining_ ** me.

 

 

 

 

* * *

_February 24th, 1953_

 

I'm leaving. It was never meant to fucking be.

 

I adore you, Hermione. I always had. You can throw the ring away. You do not owe me anything.

 

Know that I'm sorry. Know that it isn't fucking enough.

 

— draco m.

* * *

_November 24th, 1953_

 

She has gray eyes. 

 

— I hate you. Why do you always _leave_?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> basically draco came back, they had sex and she got pregnant, in case it gets confusing at the end. i could've written it, but i wanted it to be only letters so. also, yes, she had two miscarriages. i hope you like it!


End file.
